


Empty Shelves and Tainted Memories

by wh0r3crux



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wh0r3crux/pseuds/wh0r3crux
Summary: He smells different; that’s the first thing she notices. His usual scent of teakwood is replaced with something sweet; something feminine. She knows it’s not her perfume. She’s worn the same lavender scented perfume for three years now, and this—this smells like vanilla.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 21
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what possessed me to write this, but here it is.

He smells different; that’s the first thing she notices. His usual scent of teakwood is replaced with something sweet; something feminine. She knows it’s not her perfume. She’s worn the same lavender scented perfume for three years now, and this—this smells like vanilla. 

He comes home to their flat at half past two in the morning, and settles into bed with her. She rolls over to hold him, and that’s when she smells it. The sickly sweet perfume of a woman who is not her. Her stomach drops what feels like a hundred feet. Her pulse quickens and her hands begin to tremble. She knows he’s drunk, he smells like an entire liquor cabinet. They had a fight earlier in the evening, and when he left their flat with a slam of the front door, she assumed he was going to go to Theo’s. She knows now that he went somewhere else.

She squeezes her eyes shut and forces her breathing to even. She rolls over in bed, and cries herself to sleep.

_________

Draco is still asleep when she wakes the next morning. His blonde hair is splayed across the pillow, and his face shows no sign of stress. He looks like he slept like a fucking baby. 

While he sleeps, she thinks; she _plans_. She knows what he did and now she has to decide what she's going to do about it. 

She quietly crawls out of bed and heads to their shared closet. Slowly, with shaking hands and a fire burning in her heart, she begins to empty out his belongings. She carefully folds his shirts and trousers, then gathers his ties, cufflinks, and his collection of expensive watches. She puts the items in a box she found under the bed, and begins to collect his shoes and jackets. After packing those away as well, she moves on to his more personal items—books, photographs, his favorite blanket. 

Making her way through their shared flat, she grabs anything that reminds her of him. She takes hold of a book he gifted her a few months prior, running her hands across the cover. A few stray tears drop onto the leather bound book and she shakes herself from her moment of weakness. He doesn’t deserve her tears.

She collects his favorite coffee cups and a magnet on the fridge from their trip to Paris. She takes down the paintings he hung on the walls and the theater tickets sitting on the coffee table. She gathers his belongings for another hour before she has five boxes filled with the memories of their five years together.

He finds her sitting on the couch a few hours later, staring blankly at a book in her lap. He moves through the kitchen, and she hears him open a cabinet door. 

“Have you seen my mug? The white one with the snitch on it?”

She’s still staring at her book, refusing to look at him. “Yes, it’s in one of the boxes by the door.”

She can feel him looking at her now. Can feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of her head.

“Why is it in a box?”

He’s walking into the living room, and her heart is pounding in her chest. She can see him in her peripheral, and she knows he’s looking at the boxes.

“Hermione? Why is all of my stuff in boxes?”

She closes her book now, setting it on the coffee table and turning to look at him for the first time. “Where were you last night?” 

She can see when he pieces it together. His whole body stiffens and his face drains of all color.

“I- I went to the Leaky.” He stutters through his sentence, and she can see his fingers are beginning to shake.

“Is that all?” She’s angry now—has been all morning—but she composes herself. She needs to hear him say it.

His eyes are locked on the boxes on the floor, she can see him take shallow breaths. 

“At least look at me if you plan to lie.” Her voice is hard, monotone.

His head snaps up, his gaze is on her now. She can see the faint tears forming in his eyes, and it kills her not to rush to him and take him in her arms.

“I’m so sorry.” It’s soft, a whisper so quiet she has to strain her ears to hear him; but she hears him nonetheless.

“Get out.” Her voice is strong now, stronger than she feels.

“Hermione please,—“ 

His voice is shaking but she cuts him off before he can say anything else. “Get _out!”_

Her chest feels like it’s caving in. She can’t stand to look at him. She raises from the couch, and walks towards him. She can see the uncertainty in his eyes, trying to figure what she’s going to do next. 

She removes her engagement ring from her finger, holding it out for him to accept. His hands stay at his sides but his eyes are locked on the ring. “Hermione,”

She grabs his right hand, raising it and forcing his fist to open. She drops the ring onto his palm and let’s go of his hand. 

“I’ve loved you since I was twenty years old, Draco. I was ready to have a life with you; start a family with you. I guess I just thought you did too.”

She turns to walk away, but he grabs her wrist. “Hermione, please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“No!” She whips around, voice raising as tears begin to well in her eyes. “ _No,_ you do not get to stand there and say you didn’t mean to. You made a choice, Draco.”

“I know I fucked up okay? I _know_ I hurt you, but please can we just talk about this?” 

She removes his hand from her wrist and takes a step back. “There’s nothing to talk about. You were with someone else. There’s nothing you could say now to make that okay.”

“I know it’s not okay,” He’s crying now, and the sight of it makes her want to hold him until he stops. She resists the urge. “I _know,_ but I can’t lose you. I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

Anger boils in the pit of her stomach and she can’t help the sharp words that escape her mouth. “Did you love me while you were fucking someone else?” She didn’t think he could get any paler, but all remaining color leaves his face and he winces like she slapped him. “Were you thinking about me while you were buried in some other woman?”

She hears him say something, but she’s started, and now she can’t stop. “Tell me Draco, did you forget you had a fiancé? Did you just forget that I was sitting here, in our home, waiting around for you? I don’t know what they're serving at The Leaky these days, but it must be strong as hell to make you forget me.”

She crosses the room, collapsing onto the couch trying to make the tears stop falling.

He follows her, slowing sitting in the seat to her left. He tries to hold her hand but she rips it away from him. “I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t have an excuse and I don’t know what to say to make this better. I’m just so sorry.” He’s fully sobbing now, his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry.” It’s a jagged whisper between sobs, and her heart breaks a little more.

“I can’t believe you did this.” She says it so quietly she’s sure he didn’t hear her.

“Neither can I.”

They sit like that for a while. Their quiet sobs are the only sound in the room. After a few minutes he finally speaks. “What can I do to fix this? Tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything. I just can’t lose you Hermione.”

“Go to Theo’s. Or Blaise’s, or Pansy and Harry’s, or Merlin, go to the manor. Go _somewhere._ I just can’t be around you right now. I need space, and time. I need to be alone.”

“How much time?”

She sighs, and she feels like all of her energy has finally drained from her body. “I don’t know. _I don’t know._ I’ll owl you when I’m ready to see you.”

It feels like someone has ripped her heart from her chest and replaced it with a lead weight. She can’t look at him, as much as she wants to. She knows that the second she looks at him she’ll break. She’ll take it all back and let him stay. So she keeps her eyes on her hands in her lap; on the now bare finger that once held her engagement ring.

He nods, “Okay.”

She feels him stand up from the couch, and it’s only when he approaches the door that she lets herself look up at him.

He takes out his wand and levitates the boxes containing the fragments of their relationship. With one hand on the doorknob, he pauses, “I love you so much. I know I ruined us, and I’ll wait for as long as you need. I’m going to fix this. I’m so sorry. I love you.” With that, he opens the door and leaves.

The second she hears the door click shut, she breaks. She slides off the couch and into the floor. She holds her knees to her chest and cries for what feels like hours. She cries until she can’t cry anymore, and then she stands. She walks to the bathroom and turns on the shower. Stripping herself of the clothes that still smell like him, she steps under the water. In the safety of the steam, she sits on the floor and lets the water wash away the dried tears on her face. She sits on the cold tiled floor, numb and silent. She sits there until her hair is soaked and her fingers begin to prune. 

She finally leaves the bathroom after what feels like an eternity, and enters the bedroom. She stands there in the doorway, staring at the empty places where his belongings once were. All that’s left is empty shelves and tainted memories.

She climbs into bed. She sleeps alone for the first time in five years.


	2. The Sun And Her Smile

It’s been a month since Draco last saw Hermione. It’s been a month since he last heard her voice, and he’s starting to think the cruciatus curse is less painful than her silence.

He went to see Pansy and Harry a few days after leaving the flat, but Harry threw him out. “Don’t come back.” Harry said it right before he slammed the door in his face.

He’s been at Theo’s ever since.

He spends his days drinking in bed and writing letters he never sends. 

There’s a hole in his heart where Hermione used to be. It’s like he’s going through withdrawals that never end. He feels empty and cold and disgusted with himself. He can’t look in the mirror without punching his reflection. He’s had to repair the bathroom mirror in Theo’s guest suite more times than he can count.

Pansy visits him, and he’s sure she doesn’t tell Harry where she is. “He’s just angry.” She says as she sits in bed with him, stroking his head from where it rests on her shoulder. “You had to have known he was going to side with her. Merlin,  _ I  _ side with her, but you know I’d never leave you alone.”

“Have you spoken to her?” His eyes are closed, and he pretends that Pansy’s fingers are Hermione’s. 

She sighs, “She came for dinner last week.”

A silence stretches between them and Pansy knows he’s waiting for more information. “She’s- She’s not great. She looks like shit, to be honest. And she’s angry.”

He nods against her shoulder; too tired to speak.

“But she misses you.” Draco tenses underneath her hand. “She wants you to come home, but she’s not ready to see you yet.”

“Should I owl her?” The hopefulness in his voice is downright pathetic, but he doesn’t have it in him to care.

Pansy is silent for a moment before speaking. “Yes, I think you should. I can’t guarantee she’ll respond, but I think hearing from you will remind her that you haven’t forgotten about her.”

He scoffs at that, “I could  _ never  _ forget about her.”

“I know, Darling. I know.”

________________

1.

_ Hermione, _

_ Behold, you are beautiful, my love; _

_ behold, you are beautiful; _

_ your eyes are doves. _

_ Draco _

  
  


2.

_ Hermione, _

_ A few days ago I thought I loved you; but since I last saw you I feel I love you a thousand times more. All the time I have known you, I adore you more each day; that just shows how wrong was La Bruyére’s maxim that love comes all at once. Everything in nature has its own life and different stages of growth. I beg you, let me see some of your faults: be less beautiful, less graceful, less kind, less good… _

_ Draco _

_ 3. _

_ Hermione, _

_ Even in bed my ideas yearn towards you, my Immortal Beloved, here and there joyfully, then again sadly, awaiting from Fate, whether it will listen to us. I can only live, either altogether with you or not at all.  _

_ What longing in tears for you — You — my Life — my All — farewell. Oh, go on loving me — never doubt the faithfullest heart _

_ Of your beloved _

_ Ever thine. _

_ Ever mine. _

_ Ever ours. _

_ Draco _

_ 4. _

_ Hermione, _

_ Truth is, so great, that I wouldn’t like to speak, or sleep, or listen, or love. To feel myself trapped, with no fear of blood, outside time and magic, within your own fear, and your great anguish, and within the very beating of your heart. All this madness, if I asked it of you, I know, in your silence, there would be only confusion. I ask you for violence, in the nonsense, and you, you give me grace, your light and your warmth. I’d like to paint you, but there are no colors, because there are so many, in my confusion, the tangible form of my great love. _

_ Draco _

_ 5. _

_ Hermione, _

_ We get old and get use to each other. We think alike. _

_ We read each other’s minds. We know what the other wants without asking. Sometimes we irritate each other a little bit. Maybe sometimes take each other for granted. _

_ But once in awhile, like today, I meditate on it and realize how lucky I am to share my life with the greatest woman I ever met. You still fascinate and inspire me. _

_ You influence me for the better. You’re the object of my desire, the #1 Earthly reason for my existence. I love you very much. _

_ Draco _

_ ______________ _

  
  


Draco sends love letter after love letter for days. He finds history’s greatest muggle love letters, and sends them to her; because he never was a wordsmith.

The letters never return, so he takes that as a sign that she's read them. But she doesn’t respond.

______________

  
  


It’s been two weeks since Draco last sent her an owl, and he’s beginning to give up. 

“I think you should try again.”

He’s sitting with Theo, now. They’re sitting under the gazebo in the gardens, because Theo said  _ “The lack of sunshine in that room is making you translucent. Go outside or I’m sending you to Blaise.” _

“She doesn’t want to talk to me. If she did, she would’ve responded to the stack of letters I sent her.”

He’s reclined in his chair, eyes closed as his face is angled toward the warm sun. The heat of it reminds him of her smile.

“Then go to her. Show up on her doorstep and tell her you’re ready to come home.”

So that’s what he does. 

A few days later Draco finds himself standing in front of a familiar door, with a forgotten ring clutched in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other. He knocks, and the pounding of his fist on the wood is similar to the pounding of his heart. He waits—for what feels like hours but is really just a few seconds—and then the door opens. 

It’s the first time he’s seen her in almost two months, and the sight of her brings tears to his eyes. She has dark circles under her red rimmed eyes, and she looks as if she hasn’t brushed her hair in a week. She looks fucking beautiful.

Before she has the chance to slam the door in his face, he reads from the parchment in his hand.

“Your smile reminds me of the sun, and now it’s as if I haven’t felt the summer heat in a year. I miss the warmth of your laugh, and the look in your eyes when you told me you loved me. I miss hearing about your day. I miss seeing you get dressed in the morning, and it kills me that now I don’t know what shoes you wore last Tuesday. I miss spending Sunday mornings with you; curled up on the couch with our chosen books and a record playing in the corner. I miss talking about what our children’s names would be. I know I’ve been stubborn about choosing a constellation name, but now, I’d love whatever bloody Shakespearean reference you chose. I miss planning a life with you. I miss the life I had with you. I know I broke what we had, and I can’t put into words the regret that I feel. I will work every day to make it up to you. I will do whatever needs to be done for you to trust me again. I just want to come home.”

He’s silent now, and so is she.

He takes in every detail about her as if it’s the last time he’ll ever see her again. Maybe it will be.

She’s looking at him, and there’s tears in her eyes.

“What’s in your other hand?” She gestures to where the ring sits in his palm.

He holds out his hand, exposing the diamond ring to her.

She looks at the ring and then at the letter. Finally, her eyes set on his face.

“Come in, I’ll make us some tea.”


End file.
